


John Egbert's Magical Disappearing Act!

by Heist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anger, Fluff, Karkatian, M/M, SBURB, Spooning, Strider Warning, The fuck?, Time Shenanigans, Where did the fluff go?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:45:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heist/pseuds/Heist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every year, on his birthday, John disappears for the day.<br/>________________________</p><p>“Urgh! Karkat! I’ve already said that I’m not avoiding you guys. Sometimes a man just needs his space, y’know?”</p><p>“Once a year? Every year? For almost twenty-four hours?”</p><p>“Well, maybe, yeah!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1A

Every year, on his birthday, John disappears for the day.

I don’t know where he went, or what he did, but I can guess why he would vanish.  After all, each year is the anniversary of his birth - and the anniversary of, well, The Game. Sburb. The bane of universes.

And I’m a patient guy. Oh, fine, I’m not really that patient. Shut the fuck up, maybe I’ve mellowed over time. I haven’t seen you, you observing _morons_ , in _eighteen years_. And way back then, when we were all in trouble, when we needed help, _what did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?_ THAT’S RIGHT. YOU DID NOTHING. YOU LEFT US THERE TO OUR FATE. WE WERE JUST A BUNCH OF STUPID WRIGGLERS AND YOU SAT THERE ON YOUR ASSES AND - 

NO. Wait. This isn’t about me, or you. This is about John. I can do anything for John. Even put my loathing on pause.

So John vanishes on the morning of his birthday, every year. Nobody sees him until midnight. We’ve tries to hold parties for him, but he refuses to show up. We’ve all tried to follow him, but he manages to evade us. I don’t know how he does it, alright? He’s acts like such a derp all the time, but he’s much smarter than he lets on. He did get us all through the game alive…well, mostly alive, mostly through, but that’s beside the point. I was a crappy leader, and he was, well, _John_. He was the ‘friendleader,’ whatever that’s supposed to mean, and he _lead._ The kid was just… He was just John. Gog, what am I even saying anymore?

So he disappears and leaves us all alone on his birthday. It’s strange, trying to sleep in bed without him. The sheets are cold. Normally he goes to bed early and I crawl in after him, so it’s already warm.

Oh. That creaking noise - that’s the front door. He’s home.

Do you hear that? He’s putting his keys in that stupid cup by the door that he’s always trying to get me to use ( _“But then you’ll stop losing them! You’re always complaining about it. I’m just trying to help, jeez._ ”). That’s the third stair; it squeaks ( _“What do you mean, replace it? It’s not a home without a creaky floorboard or two!”_ ). There’s a quiet rustle of clothing as he changes, and then he’s slipping into his side of the bed as quietly as possible.

You see, I’ve always let him believe I went to sleep without him, on these nights, but I’m sick of the facade, so I roll over to face him. “John.”

“Oh! Ha ha! I didn’t mean to wake you up! Go back to sleep.” His hair's a mess and he sounds tired, but relieved. I can’t help but wonder where he’s been all day - what ( _who? NO, SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP_ )  he’s been doing - that would wear him out like this.

“John. Stop being an idiot for about five seconds, will you?” I bite back a sigh; now is not the time. “Why in the world would I be asleep?”

“Huh?” His eyes widen.

OR maybe now is the time for exasperated sighs. “Honestly, Egbert. Do you remember how long it took for you to get me to sleep on a stupid earth mattress and not in my -“

“Coon of slime?” He makes a face. “Yeah, why?”

“And what makes you think that I would ever sleep on one of these _things_ if you weren’t in it?”

“I dunno. You’ve done it before -“

“Have I?”

“Well, yeah…”

“When?”

“Well…”  
  
“Maybe on your birthday? When you weren’t here?”

“Urgh! _Karkat!_ ” He frowns and narrows his eyes. “I’ve already said that I’m not avoiding you guys. Sometimes a man just needs his space, y’know?”

“Once a year? Every year? For almost twenty-four hours?”

“Well, maybe, yeah!”

I breathe in, out, count to ten. I will not yell about this. I will not. “Did you ever think that maybe you doing this offends me?”

“What are you _talking_ about?”

“It _is_ kind of our anniversary.” I shift so that I’m lying on my back, staring at the ceiling. “We didn’t really meet until to- er, yesterday.”

“Oh.”

Silence. All I can hear is our breathing and the insects chirping outside. It took me a long time to get used to them; they sounded so strange, at first. Than again, everything about this world was strange in the beginning.

“But I thought - I thought that trolls didn’t have…anniversaries.”

“We don’t.”

“…Then?”

“Trolls don’t. Humans do. I thought,” I took a deep breath. I will not get angry. I _will not_ change the subject, because this is John and I want to know where he goes on these days, and I need to put him off guard somehow, because, well…

I want to go with him.

“I thought that, being the hopeless romantic derpface that you are, you would cling to the tradition. I guess…I was wrong.” This is stupid. I am stupid for doing this. I should just go to sleep. “It’s just that you disappear on these days and I wo-.” Now I’m really being stupid. Present Karkat, you are the most stupid - “Nevermind.” I roll over again, this time facing away from John. I must be more tired than I thought, to nearly stay something so dumb.

John shifts his weight. The next thing I know, he’s slung his arm around my waist and his face is pressed in between my shoulder blades. “Sorry,” his voice is quiet and muffled and generally hard to hear, but I can feel his lips moving on my back as he speaks, which is good enough for me. “I didn’t think…”

“You never think, moron. That’s my job.”

He laughs halfheartedly. “Maybe… next year, if you want… you could, um, come with me?”

Yes. Yes, I am smiling, you dipshits. Why are you still here, anyway? Just fuck off, already!

I reach for where his hand curls against my ‘belly,’ as you stupid humans call it, and slip my fingers between his. ” Yeah, maybe. That would…be nice.”

 


	2. Part 2A

When I opened my eyes, the sun hasn’t risen yet.  
    There’s an odd thought if there ever were one: being awake when the sun is out. It’s been eighteen years, though. You’d think that I’d have gotten over it by now, but I haven’t.  I don’t think any of us Alternians are comfortable with it yet. I don’t think we ever will be, not really.  
    But it was dark when I woke up this morning. Green light glared at me from across the room, telling me it was only a little after five in the morning. Five. What the hell was I doing up, I had only gone to bed four hours before, where the fuck was John and why wasn’t he -.  
    Oh. Right.  
    It was John’s birthday again. Of course he wouldn’t be in bed.  
    I left the bedroom, growling under my breath. The fucker better not have left without me, _he said that I could come this time, WHERE THE FUCK –_  
    And the stairs creaked.  
    John came into sight on the landing, his hair still a ruffled mess.  His eyes widened slightly when he saw me.  Were those bags under his eyes? Jegus fuck, he was asleep before I was, why doesn’t he look like he’s slept at all?  And what is he carrying is that coffee oh bless you John.  
    “Hey, Karkat! I didn’t expect you to be up, yet. You always sleep in.” There’s a weird strain in his voice.  He does a good job of hiding it, but you don’t live with a person for however-the-many-fuck-sweeps-it’s-been (nine years, six months, eleven days, Earth time. YOU WANT TO MAKE SOMETHING OF IT?)  without learning how to read them.  “I  brought you coffee…”  
    I took the offered cup and drank a few mouthfuls. I don’t really talk in the mornings without having coffee first. “Thanks. Now you tell me what’s wrong.”  
    “Nothing’s wrong, silly!”  He tousled my hair. I tried really hard not to growl, I swear, but it’s a bit early for self-control. John just laughed. Stupid kid. “You’re cute when you growl, by the way. Did you know?”  
    …cute? CUTE? HE THOUGHT THAT _GROWLING WAS_ \- GAH NO THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR THIS!  
    I took another sip of coffee and let the matter drop.  He’ll tell me eventually, whether he realizes it or not.  
    “So, I want to leave around six. Is that  okay?”  
    “Yeah. Sure. No problem.”  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
    So we left around seven.  
    We went to the graveyard.  
    I wasn’t expecting this at all (OF COURSE I WAS EXPECTING IT YOU MORON WHERE THE FUCK ELSE WOULD HE GO, THE SOUP KITCHEN?) .  
    So he went to look at the graves. I stayed in the car. It’s just creepy, okay? Who wants to go see all their friends’ names on headstones? I don’t want to see my own fucking name on a headstone, let alone everyone else’s. It’s fucking creepy, I tell you. Gives me chills.  
    So I sit in the car and watch him., because he’s the kind of idiot who’d fall into a hole and drown in a muddy puddle of water at the bottom. He just sits there on the grass, talking to himself. It took me a while to figure out what he was doing. I have no idea why he was doing that.  Is this some sort of stupid human thing?  Should I be worried? Is he going crazy? Delusional? Does he need to talk to a specialist or something?  Who am I kidding, we all should have gotten therapy years ago.  But still, talking to yourself at a graveyard was weird. (FOR THE LOVE OF GOG, IF YOU KEEP LAUGHING WHILE I AM TALKING I WILL RIP OUT YOUR ENTRAILS AND CHOKE YOU TO DEATH WITH – WIPE THAT SMIRK OFF YOUR FACE BEFORE I DO IT FOR YOU.  IF I HEAR ONE MORE PERSON MAKES THAT STUPID SYMPATHETIC ADORABLE NOISE EVER IN MY LIFE, SO HELP ME, CORPSES. WILL. ROLL).  
    By the time John returned to the car, it was nearly noon.  “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you up!”  
    “I wasn’t sleeping.” (I WASN’T. FUCK OFF.)  
    “Uh huh. You want to grab some more coffee, then? That grunt was affirmative! So, coffee on our way to the preschool!”  
    “Yeah, okay wait WHAT?”  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
    The bulgesucker actually went to a fucking preschool.  
    He _read_ to the _wigglers_.  
    That was, hands down, the worst two hours in my life.    
    Yes. Even worse than that time I had to take care of myself and twenty-three other grubs.  
    Grubs don’t try and hug you right after wiping their snotty noses on the backs of their grubby little hands while saying, “You’re my _favowite_ , Karkitty.” They aren’t fuckin’ Feferi or Nepeta and _“For fuck’s sake THEY ARE TOUCHING ME JOHN GET THEM OFF OF ME!”_  
    “Hey! No swearing around the kids! Just for that, I’m not going to help you.”  
    “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHH!”  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
    After we left that hellhole (“Don’t lie, Karkat! You _liked_ it. You thought they were _cute_. I saw you playing House with those girls! That was totally a thing that happened, don’t deny it!  It was adorable!” “ADORABLOODTHIRSTY!” ) _**hellhole**_ , he went to the soup kitchen. (YES, YES I KNOW WHAT I SAID EARLIER. IF YOU BRING IT UP AGAIN, YOU WILL GET THE INTENSE PLEASURE OF SEEING MY FURY AND I WILL HOLD NOTHING BACK.  OCEANS WILL RISE. CITIES WILL FALL. _BODIES WILL HIT THE FLOOR._  
    (WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LAUGHING? THERE IS NOTHING TO LAUGH AT, FUCKASS! I AM BEING DEADLY SERIOUS HERE. YOU HAVE NEVER SEEN A MORE SOLEMN EXPRESSION OF HOMICIDAL THOUGHT. I WILL –  
     (Karkat. You’re being mean again.  
    (BUT I –  
    (Karkat.  
    (BUT THEY –  
    (Uh-uh.  
    (BUT…BUT  
    (No.  
    (OKAY, fine! Can we please continue?  
    (Much better. Good Karkat, best matesprit.  
    ( _Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I feel the need to explain the graveyard a bit. My headcannon for this is that all of their dead selves, including dreamselves, just showed up in places and were randomly found by strangers. Therefore, everyone has one gravestone. Multiple bodies (I'm looking at you, Sollux) are buried in the same plot because reasons. It's creepy and odd and most of the Sburb survivors don't like to see them, but John goes back at least once a year because he's weird like that.


	3. Part 3A

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of Section A

“I can’t believe that fucking happened.”

“Karkat…”

“I mean, who the fuck does something like that in a soup kitchen?”

“I-”

“Seriously? Exactly how long do you have to have maggots nibbling away at your thinkpan to even conceive of something like that?”

“Kar-”

“And for the love of gog, John! Stop trying to apologize, it wasn’t your fault! _You_ aren’t the one with worms digging holes into your cranium!”

“…Right.”

I push the front door open and drag the kid inside with me. He’s going to be beating himself up about this one for _weeks_ , I could tell already. “Come on. Let’s just watch one of your crappy human excuses for cinema and call it night, alright?”

“…Yeah. Sure. Alright.” He tries to smile, but it’s not quite reaching his eyes. Damn it all. He’s going to make this harder than it has to be. Then again, it’s John. I’m not really surprised.

Suddenly, the phone rings, causing us both to jump. John laughs weakly. “Do you mind getting that? It’s probably Jade or someone, you know Terezi would let it slip to someone by now…”

I shrug uncomfortably. I should really be doing something else first, but… “Yeah. Sure.”

“Give me your sickles? I’ll take care of them for you…”

Normally, this was an offer I would turn down, and John knew it. But he also knew how uneasy I felt when my blades remained dirty for too long. “You remember how to do it properly?”

“You only rant at me about it _at least_ once every perigree. I think I remember well enough.”

“I do not talk about it that often,” I huff, but I hand over the card anyways and grab the phone a moment before the machine picked up. “Hello?”

“Karkat.”

“Ah. Shades McCooldouche. What do you want.”

“Not in the mood. What the hell happened today?”

“Calm your quadrants. Your moirail’s fine.”

“Funny. I figured that bit out myself, what with you bein’ so calm and all. Figured if John had died, you’d doin’ a right pretty pirouette off the handle…” Strider must be pretty upset over the whole thing. He didn’t even bother trying to argue with me about my “shitty excuse-me-I’m-just-going-to-bang-anything-that-moves-polyamory-all-up-in-this-bitch alien piss-poor romantic theories” (FUCK YOU, IT’S PERFECTLY LOGICAL, YOU HUMANS ARE THE FREAKS WITH THE ONE QUADRANT THING, I CAN’T EVEN IMAGINE HOW FUCKING BACKWARDS YOU HAVE TO BE TO NOT NOTICE THE OTHER THREE).

I let him drone for a minute before cutting him off. “Do you want to hear about what happened or not?”

“No. I want to hear your opinions on the latest romcom. What-”

I interrupt him before he can get rolling again. Obnoxious fuck. “Short version: Some inconsiderate nooksniffer tried to kill John at the soup kitchen today. Moron thought his gun would be faster than my sickles. He thought wrong.” I smile at the thought. It’s not a happy smile. (Yes, I’m smiling. Idiot tried to take something that was mine so I killed him. You’d be showing your fangs, too. Don’t try to deny it.) “Terezi will take care of all the law crap.”

“…Who the fuck brings a gun to a soup kitchen?”

“Someone crazier than Vriska, that’s for sure.” I freeze, blink. Something’s off. “Have we had this conversation before?”

“No, I don’t…” There’s a moment of silence. I can’t even hear him breathing on the other end. “Strider?” No response. “Strider! …Dave, what the hell?”

“…I’m forgetting something.” There was no way in hell that I was still talking to Strider. He sounded…worried. “I’m _forgetting_ something, something important. Crap, _what is it_? We aren’t dead, so what…? **_FUCK!_** ” There’s a series of loud thuds on the other end. I can hear Strider swearing at the top of his lungs somewhere far away from the receiver.

“What the fuck is going on over there? Strider?”

There’s a rustling sound.“Hello, Karkat. I must apologize for my sibling’s behavior. It appears that my cat has accidentally gotten into the room with his turntables.”

“Rose? What are you doing at Strider’s house? Wait!” Her words hit me like a ton of concrete. I can literally feel the mutant blood draining from my face.

_“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, GOT INTO THE ROOM WITH THE TURNTABLES? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?”_

“Karkat, it would be best for your health if you would stop yelling. You’re going to shout yourself into an early grave, at this rate.”

_“Don’t fuck with me about this, Rose.”_

She sighs. “It appears that Percival von Mewskers has removed the machines from their power source.”

“He _unplugged_ them?”

“Precisely.” I frown, trying to remember exactly how the damn things worked. “When was the last time he saved the game data?”

“…I don’t know. Rather recently, I‘d expect.”

“Bullshit, Seer. You know.”

“I don’t feel the need to panic you. Besides, do you honestly want to know?”

My throat feels dry. It’s like we’re on that damn asteroid again, speeding towards the Green Sun, and I’m watching Sollux burn himself up again. “…No. How long…how long until it resets?”

“Not long.” It’s Strider again. He sounds exhausted. “I’m sorry, Karkat. I should have remembered this sooner. Next time, I will. We won’t do this again, not if I can help it.”

“Karkat? What-what’s wrong? What happened?” I feel frozen, but I manage to turn and face John, anyways. He’s standing in the hallway, my sylladex card clutched in one hand, and he’s just staring at me, with the widest blue eyes.

And I can’t help it. I drop the phone, run over, and hug him as hard as I can. He knows, I know he‘s figured it out just from hearing my half of the conversation, and he wants me to tell him he’s wrong. But he isn’t. I think I’m crying, but I can’t really tell, or care. I just bury my head in his shoulder and he hugs me back when I don’t answer.

You see, we never actually won the game. We never got out of it, either. In fact, we’re still in it, still playing, and we always will be. There is no way out, no way to win. It was only with the help of the Space and Time players that we were able to get our original planets back at all, that we were able to pretend to live like normal trolls - people - and not like hunted creatures all the time. I don’t know how, but time was only passing because of those damn turntables, and now that they’ve lost power it won’t be long until we reset back to the last checkpoint. The last place Dave and Aradia bothered saving the data.

Because this is a game. These worlds, our lives, all just… a game.

“It’ll be okay. It can’t be that far back.”

“John. Don’t go.”

“I won’t. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.”

And then darkness rolled over us all.


	4. Part 1B

WHAT. THE FUCKING. HELL.  
    WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU BACK? WHAT ARE YOU EVEN WATCHING US FOR? DID YOU JUST GET BORED, WATCHING US BUILD OUR SHITTY LIVES UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS FUCKING HELLHOLE GAME, AND DECIDE TO JUMP FORWARD A FEW YEARS? WAS THAT ALL TOO _MUNDANE_ FOR YOU?   
    DID YOU COME HERE HOPING TO FIND OUT WE FAILED? I’VE GOT NEWS FOR YOU: WE. ARE FUCKING. _FINE_. EVERYTHING’S AS NORMAL AS IT COULD EVER BE IN THIS FUCKING GAME. OUR LIVES HAVE BEEN DRIFTING ALONG LIKE A PLOTLESS FUCKING MOVIE. NO HOMICIDAL RAMPAGES HERE. MOVE. THE FUCK. ON.  
    WAIT.  
    YOU TWISTED BASTARDS.  
    YOU HAVE SOME SORT OF KINK, DON’T YOU? SOME WEIRD, ALIEN, SADIST KINK. THAT’S WHY YOU JUST FUCKING SAT THERE ON YOUR FAT ASSES AND WATCHED US LEAP AT EACH OTHER’S THROATS WITHOUT DOING SHIT.   
    GET OUT.  
    GET THE FUCK OUT.  
    JUST LEAVE US ALONE ALREADY. WE AREN’T HERE FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT. THESE ARE OUR _LIVES_ , YOU SICK –  
    WHAT.  
    NO I DON’T –  
    LOOK, ALL I KNOW IS THAT I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU, YOU SICK OBSERVING _MORONS_ , IN _EIGHTEEN YEARS_. AND WAY BACK THEN, WHEN WE WERE ALL IN TROUBLE, WHEN WE NEEDED HELP – WHAT DID YOU DO? _WHAT DID YOU DO?_   THAT’S RIGHT. YOU DID NOTHING. YOU LEFT US THERE TO OUR FATE. WE WERE JUST A BUNCH OF STUPID WRIGGLERS AND YOU SAT THERE ON YOUR ASSES AND – FUCK – PROBABLY GOT FUCKING _VAPORS_ OVER IT, WHAT KIND OF DEPRIVED –.  
    WHAT.  
    YES, IT IS JOHN’S FUCKING BIRTHDAY TODAY. PAT YOURSELF ON THE BACK THERE, GENIUS. SPEAKING OF WHICH, DID YOU KNOW THAT HE FUCKING UP AND VANISHES EVERY YEAR ON HIS FUCKING BIRTHDAY. I KNOW IT’S THE DAY HE STARTED PLAYING THIS FUCKING GAME, ALRIGHT, BUT WHAT THE FUCK? WHAT DOES HE EVEN DO? APPARENTLY, ALL OF US ARE COMPLETELY INCOMPETENT TRACKERS BECAUSE WE’VE TRIED TO FOLLOW HIM BUT THE FUCKER MANAGES TO LOOSE US AT SOME POINT OR ANOTHER. I GUESS THE KID ISN’T COMPLETELY USELESS BUT I DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW THE FUCK HE DOES IT, OKAY?  
    “Karkat? What are you still doing up?”  
    AND NOW JOHN’S BACK.  
    “John. Where the fuck have you been all day?”  
    “…out.”  
    GREAT. IT’S GOING TO BE ONE OF _THOSE_ CONVERSATIONS. _AGAIN._  
    “Out. Out where?”  
    “No where important. Just… out.”  
    I will not growl. I will not growl. I will not –  
    “You know, John, I’m getting pretty fucking tired of this game you play every year.”  
    “What are you –”  
    “You know what I’m talking about, fuckass. The one where you go and _hide_ from us for your entire birthday.”  
    “It’s not a game.”  
    “Then why? What do you fucking _do_? Why don’t you tell us? Are you going out there and – _pailing_ somebody or something? Is that why your too ashamed to –”  
    “That’s not it _at all_. Karkat –”  
    “Then what? Why can’t you tell your own gog damn matesprit?”   
    “Maybe I just need to _get away_ from my _gog damn clingy matesprit_ and all my _unnaturally super-powered friends_. Did you ever think of THAT?”  
    “A TON OF SHIT CROSSED MY THINKPAN, YOU FUCKING IMBECILE, BUT I WOULDN’T ACTUALLY _KNOW_ BECAUSE YOU DON’T FUCKING _TELL ME_ –”  
    “KARKAT, COULD YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR MORE THEN TWO SECONDS?”  
    What.  
    Wait. Did he just… yell?  
    “I mean, my GOD. I don’t _have_ to TELL you about every fucking thing I do, do I? And I sure as hell don’t have _stand here AND TAKE YOUR FUCKING ABUSE, OKAY?”_  
    The edges of his clothes are fluttering. That is not a good sign _but_ I DON'T REALLY CARE RIGHT NOW.  
    “MAYBE YOU SHOULD CALM THE FUCK _DOWN_ AND CONTROL THOSE OBNOXIOUS WIND POWERS OF YOURS ALREADY –”  
    John lifts his chin ever so slightly and _glares_. What. _What._ I’ve never seen… His eyes are just all hard. Angry. Like _ice_. I didn’t even think he could _look_ like that.  “NO. No. _I WILL NOT CALM DOWN_.” The wind picks up, tugs at my hair. “I am sick and tired of all this _shit_ , Karkat, of you swearing all the time, of being called stupid, of the way you treat my suggestions – would it _kill_ you to put your keys in the same place?” Something falls to the floor and shatters. “Do you even _know_ how annoying it is to listen to you rant about that? Or about your strife specibi? I _swear_ you do so at _least_ once a month.” He laughs, but it’s a mean, cackling thing. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him make that noise before. I didn’t think he was _capable_ of making that noise.  
    “What? You know what’s _really_ annoying? ‘You _know_ , if you just do what I say, you won’t loose your dumb keys all the time! What do you mean, do something about the squeaky floorboards? I want to listen to them _squeal like a bunch of squeakbeasts everytime I want to do something. Isn’t that fantastic?_ Listen to me, I’m the _friendleader_.’ GIVE ME A _FUCKING_ BREAK. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN, ANYWAYS? NO, WAIT. WAIT. YOU KNOW WHAT’S _REALLY_ OBNOXIOUS? THAT FUCKING TORTURE DEVICE YOU STUPID HUMANS SLEEP ON. WHAT THE _HELL_. WHY DO I EVEN _TRY_ TO SLEEP THERE?”  
    “You know what?” Something else slams into the floorboards. “I don’t have to take this crap, Karkat. I really don’t. If you don’t want to be here, if you hate this so much, then just leave.”  
    “YOU WERE THE ONE -”  
    “Just get the fuck out of my house, Karkat. Go fill your quadrants properly or something so I don’t have to hear you complain about your _stupid_ quadrant system anymore.”  
    “ _I THINK I FUCKING WILL._ YOU HAVE GOT TO BE THE WORST MATESPRIT IN THE HISTORY OF PITY, EGBERT. _FUCK. THIS_.”  
    I AM NOT RUNNING FROM THE ROOM, YOU MORONS. I AM _NOT_.   
    THE SUN WILL RISE SOON, AND I WANT TO BE SAFELY ENSCONSED IN MY HIVE IN SOME PROPER SOPOR SLIME, _OKAY_?   
    Just as I slam the front door shut, something crashes out of the bedroom window and falls to the ground and _nearly hits me in the horns_. What the fuck? It’s a framed picture, that dumb one of John and I that always sat next to the bed. The glass is shattered and the photograph is shredded.   
    I do the only logical thing. I chuck it at the front door before hurrying away. I NEED TO BE BACK IN MY HIVE BEFORE SUNRISE, IDIOTS.  
    BECAUSE FUCK THIS SHIT.  
    _FUCK THIS SHIT.  
    FUCK THIS I DON’T NEED JOHN AS MY MATESPRIT. I DON’T NEED HIM._  
    I DON’T.  
    I DON’T.  
    I don’t.


End file.
